Peppermint Christmas
by CodyNaomiSwire
Summary: 'Blue Sky' AU - It's Wheatley's first Christmas outside of Aperture, but while the town of Eaden is bustling with holiday cheer, dark times also begin to resurface and haunt Wheatley's memories. Will Wheatley be able to face his inner 'ghosts? Some Chelley fluff also ensues. Inspired in part by the song 'Peppermint Winter' by Owl City and 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens.
1. Hot Chocolate and Other Matters

Wheatley took another sip of the hot, sweet, and frothy chocolaty goodness and let out another long sigh of contentment. It had been long, far too long, since he had had a good mug of hot chocolate. He licked the whipped cream from his upper lip, and then plunged his face back in for another sip. Sip, sigh, lick…sip, sigh lick…over and over again, until all that was left was moist chocolaty bits at the bottom of the mug.

_"Oh, blimey!"_ he thought to himself happily. _"That hits the spot. I could definitely get used to this!"_

He swirled the remains of the chocolate around the bottom of the mug, and his happiness suddenly came to have a twinge of melancholy as he thought.

Perhaps he had been used to it already before, once upon a time, but when your mind makes at least four different body changes, certain bits of memory don't quite make it through the exchange. He had been human once before now…until Aperture had happened…until Science had happened. It was hard to believe that it was only that summer, only a few months before now, that he had remembered any of that. He didn't remember much – only bits about the office, of bagels…of Chell…of his last moments in his original human body as his mind blacked out in a cloud of unconsciousness and blue light and the deadly sweet smell of almonds – but it was enough to confirm to him the truth.

It was a hard truth to grasp at first. Goodness knows, it would cause any AI to have the greatest identity crisis ever known in the history of both human and artificial kind! He remembered how badly he had wanted those memories erased; to be deleted from his hard drive. But now, as much as those memories still hurt at times, he wouldn't give them up for anything in the world. Especially the ones with her in them -

"Well, you've gone quiet all of a sudden," said a smiling voice behind him. "I'd have thought that all that sugar would have sent you off the walls by now. What's on your mind?"

Wheatley, shaking himself from his reflections, turned to see Chell's happy face, with that lovely expression that was his alone. He felt a dopey smile spread across his face as he replied back.

"Ah- yeah, sorry. No, I really did it enjoy it. Blimey! That was good stuff that was. It's just…it seems like such an…ordinary thing for humans to have. I just wondered if…if I'd ever- ever had it before. But…I can't remember…not that far back anyway."

Chell took the empty mug from his hand and rinsed it out in the sink. "I know the feeling," she said matter-of-factly. That was another reason why Wheatley liked Chell's company so much, why it was his lifeline. She seemed to understand everything about him, even if she didn't say so. She wasn't much for talking anyway, but even just the way she would look at him would fill in all the gaps the lack of words would otherwise leave someone else. And of course they had their shared experiences in that Place…with Her…that no one else living in the world had gone through. Even though they had both for the most part recovered from having gone through so much in that horrid labyrinth, they would still carry scars from it for the rest of their lives; both visible and non-visible. Wheatley thought it was the non-visible ones that hurt the most. But Chell had helped make them bearable. Or even caused some to disappear or nearly disappear all together. If there was one thing she had taught him, it was that it was never too late to have a new start.

He brightened as he thought of this, and he also became rather excited as he thought about how, in a way, this would be his first Christmas! The holiday songs that Foxglove had been broadcasting to the town of Eaden that whole month of December did ring some bells in the back of his memory, so like hot chocolate, he knew that there was definitely the possibility he must have been familiar with them before Aperture, but he couldn't for the life of him remember where he had heard them before or how he knew them. But that didn't seem to matter. The fact was that he knew them (or, at least sort of), and would learn even more of them, and that was what mattered.

"So," he finally said, after a moment of silence as Chell wiped her hands on a towel by the sink. "Wh-what do humans usually do for-for Christmas then? I mean, we've had the songs and decorations and the whole lot going throughout the month, but Christmas Eve is supposed to be uh-particularly special somehow, right? What do you do on a day like today?" Even though Wheatley was once again physically human, having recovered his old body as a 'surprise' from Caroline, and having regained some human 'protocols' in the process, there were still some missing pieces that he would have to relearn. He felt a bit like a child in that so many seemingly elementary things would have to be 're-downloaded' into him. But then again, also like a child, he felt a sort of excitement at the prospect of rediscovering the wonderful 'why-nots?' that came with being human again. Why not go and have a holiday? Why not drink hot chocolate? Why not have bagels with jam in the morning? Why not go sledding on the hill near Otten's Field? (He hadn't actually done that yet, but he promised Ellie that he would give it a try that day.)

Chell hung up the towel, and strode across the room, grabbed his coat off the hook near the door and flung it at him. He fumbled about as he just managed to catch it with his long, clumsy flailing arms, a smile spreading across his face again and that unique Wheatley chuckle escaping his throat. As Chell whipped her own coat on, she turned and grabbed his hand, leading him out the door. "C'mon, and I'll show you!"


	2. Magical

It had snowed the previous couple of nights, and now the town of Eaden looked like a real winter wonderland. The snow wasn't very deep, but it was enough to cover the ground in white, and powder the trees with a sparkly brilliance. When winter first started coming on, Wheatley was sure it would be a miserable time. He didn't very much like the cold, especially since it reminded him so much of the cryosleep chambers of that Place, and especially with his newly recovered ultra-sensitive nervous system, it felt even more intense than what his receptors picked up in his other three or so artificial forms. He was also sure that a world covered in white would only remind him more of the whitewashed tiles of the facility, and of Her horrid, blank, pale face.

But instead, pleasantly to his surprise, he found that the cold white substance that covered the ground couldn't really be compared to the whiteness of Aperture, as the whiteness out here was so much better! It was fluffy and soft, rather than gooey and pasty like the portal surface gel, and it would float gently down from the sky rather than spray out in a torrent from a pipe or hose. And it spread around in random patterns, far more interesting to look at than the rigid rectangular panels of the testing chambers. And the trees and long grassy bits and buildings were still able to peek out from underneath, as if the snow were a welcome addition to the landscape and décor rather than an oppressive overwhelming material. And the cold, although unpleasant and even painful at times, was also a different sort of cold. It was much fresher, more real, and he actually found that the cold made the warmth of a home and a hot drink and the fireplace all the more enjoyable. In it's own way, it could enrich the experience rather than deaden it.

God, how brilliantly different the world outside of Aperture was! It was so open and lovely and bright, and _'magical'_. He had never really used the world _'magical'_ to describe anything inside of the Labyrinth, except for perhaps Chell. Such a word didn't seem to fit in a place like that at all – a place all about how everything needed a cut and dry explanation, a purpose, a motivation (and usually not a very pleasant one), and had to be of a rigid order, all under Her control. But in a world full of wonderful _'why nots?'_, where things seemed so random, yet also fit perfectly in their own way, it seemed like any word other than _'magical'_, or its equivalent, would be an understatement.

As Wheatley and Chell stepped off the front porch, Wheatley suddenly felt himself glide along the icy sidewalk.

"Whoawhoawhoa! Ahhhh!"

He flailed his long limbs about, trying to maintain his balance, but this only resulted in the comical effect of him skidding further with the momentum. Chell tried to reach out and grab him, but the rapid flailing about of his arms made it hard, even for her with her quick reflexes, to get a good grip on him.

"Aaah! No no no no! Ahh! Catch me catch me catch me –"

Wheatley suddenly hit an uneven patch in the ice, and was sent sprawling out on the pavement, facedown in the snow.

"Mmph!…ow!"

Wheatley popped his face back out of the snow as Chell helped him back up. She gave a soft inward giggle as she saw him turning his head about, still slightly dazed from the tumble, with is glasses all covered up with snow. He then took off his glasses and began wiping the snow from them.

"Oh gawd! Th-that was…er, unexpected! Uh, heh heh! Although, you have to admit, as far as falls go, that was er- rather graceful wasn't it? I mean, for a first fall on- on the ice anyway. 'Course, I've fallen loads of times before that. The practice helps I suppose."

No sooner had Wheatley replaced his glasses on his face, when a snowball flew through the air on his right, just out of range of his peripheral vision, and smacked him on the side of the head, covering his glasses again on the right lens.

"Ah! What the –"

"Snowball fight!" came a chorused shout, as Romy's twin boys, Max and Jason, rushed out from around the corner of Chell's house, and commenced pelting them with snowballs. Chell was able to dodge most of them, and with lightning quick speed, was already packing together her own arsenal of snowballs and going on the offensive. Wheatley attempted to do the same, but found it difficult as with one hand he tried to shield himself, with the other attempted to pack together a snowball, and all with only one eye as the right one was squinted shut and stung a bit from the impact of the first projectile.

From what he could see though, Chell and the twins were all amazing at the art of snowball fighting. Especially Chell... Wheatley suddenly felt himself giving a little shudder as he thought about what sort of training she went through to get that good at aiming and dodging and calculating. Although sometimes she still got that same concentrated crease between her eyebrows that he had seen so many times as she was testing, when doing things out here that required the same or similar skills or mindsets, there was something different about it as well. It was the same…yet it wasn't the same. Out here, instead of using those skills to take down turrets and a giant psychotic killer robot, she was using them to play a game with these two young human children. Instead of clenching her teeth in voiceless and fierce determination, with eyes squinting in flinty fury, now a smile had once again spread across her face, and laughter or even the occasional 'whoop' came out, and her eyes were wide and bright.

_"Another kind of magic I suppose,"_ Wheatley thought to himself, as he once again shook himself from his thoughts and tried to focus again on the play fight.

"Alright then mates! Time for –"

(wha-pack)

"Ow! Alright, that's enough of- pfpth! Oh, hey now! Not the face, not the face! Once is enough already –"

(smack smack whapifph)

"Ah! Ah! Oh- oh c'mon now! Oi! Gimme a break will ya!"

Eventually, Chell dragged Wheatley behind the hedge on the side of the yard, which then became the barrier over which the two-on-two snowball match continued. After getting enough snow off his glasses so that he could see, Wheatley then watched carefully to see how Chell packed together the snowballs, and the how she threw them.

_"Well,"_ he thought to himself. _"At least this looks easier than kneading bread dough. Although, come to think of it, I could really go for some lovely cinnamon buns right now. Yeah, nice and moist and covered with frosting- god, that's the stuff! And maybe some more hot choc-"_

"Whoa! Ah!" he exclaimed, as a slush ball hit him on the top of the head.

"Alright, you asked for it now mates! Time to do this Wheatley style!"

Wheatley packed a bundle of snow together as hard as he could in his hands, and then flung it over the hedge. It missed by a long shot, only to go 'smack' on the side of Chell's house. Wheatley's eyebrows furrowed with slight frustration, but it was the kind of frustration that made him try all the harder, and was balanced by the laughter of himself and Max and Jason as volleys were traded across the hedge.

Finally, Wheatley seemed to get the hang of things, and Max and Jason had to do a bit more dodging about to make sure they didn't get hit by the projectiles being flung crazily about by Wheatley's long arms. At last, without actually trying to, one of Wheatley's snowballs caught Jason on the shoulder.

"Ah ha! See! Now THAT'S how it's done mates! Better watch out now, because I'm – pffth!"

At that moment, Jason retaliated with a perfectly aimed snowball right into Wheatley's mouth. He sputtered and spat out the snow and ice.

"Gah! Pth! Thpth! Oh, bloody- Ptwew! Argh! Ok, you REALLY asked for it now!"

The skirmish went on for several more minutes, until finally both parties decided to call it a draw as they were all panting and out of breath.

"Whew, I'll tell you!" said Wheatley to the twins. "You really know how to put up a tremendous fight there, mates."

"Well, I AM the champion at school!" said Max triumphantly.

"Nuh uh!" said Jason in response. "What about during recess last week? My team totally beat the snot out of yours!"

"Did not!"

"Did to!"

"Uh, how exactly do you win at a snowball fight?" asked Wheatley, although suddenly thinking it may have been a silly question; another elementary bit of information.

But the twins were only too happy to explain.

"Depends on what kind of fight your playing," stated Jason. "Sometimes, you can play a version of king of the hill, where the last person standing wins."

"Or," chimed in Max. "You see who can get the most hits before the clock runs out. And then, you can also see who can invade the others snow fort. Or –"

"Max! Jason!" came Romy's voice from across the street. "Get over and help me with these boxes! We're heading to the Otten's place now."

"Sure Mom!" the boys chorused as they rushed across the street.

"Can we help?" Chell called out to Romy.

"Sure. We've actually got a few more things back at the store. If you could bring them up with you, that would be a big help!"

"You got it!" exclaimed Wheatley. He always loved to help other people.

_["…you're such a big helper."]_

The kindly voice rang again through his memories…

_["A helper…I…I like that…"]_

He sprung forward in the direction of the store, nearly slipping again on more ice. But Chell was ready this time and caught his arm. Even though his legs were much longer than hers, Chell was able to keep up with him, their steps being just about a perfect 1:2 ratio. Her hand still keeping a firm grip on his arm, they headed towards Aaron's store.


	3. A Ghost

Everywhere it seemed, bells were jingling.

As Wheatley and Chell stepped into Eaden General, the string of jingle bells hung up on the door jangled cheerfully as the door swung open. On the radio behind the counter, an instrumental arrangement of 'Carol of the Bells' was being played, and the box Aaron was carrying in his arms also made clinking noises as he carried it out from the stockroom.

Wheatley always loved the background noises of the store, especially since they seemed to change with the times and seasons. Something about the sounds and the music would always bring out and emphasize and enrich whatever time of year it was, or whatever was going on. Whether it was just a lazy summer day, a busy couple of days before Halloween where everyone was coming in to get candy, or the lovely Christmas holiday, the sounds would always change to fit the tone and the mood. Unlike the constant, unchanging, oppressive hum of the facility, the noises here were always shifting in rhythm and pitch and volume, and were usually so calming and cheerful.

Aaron paused and looked up as he heard the duo enter through the door. "Ah, it's about time you two came along!" said Aaron. "Going to help us get the rest of these things up to the Ottens'?"

"You got it mate!" said Wheatley enthusiastically, giving a happy salute as a big grin spread across his face. "Ready and willing and able! Well, that is, when we're not falling down on the ice. Well, not Chell anyway. Ju-just me. But don't worry! I think I've got the knack of getting about now on the slick stuff. Just got to coordinate the ol' depth perception and take it one step at a time. Much easier now that I actually have dep- er, uh, that is to say, um…yeah, we'll be able to help."

"Alrighty then," said Aaron, who by this time, like most everyone else in Eaden, had gotten used to Wheatley's long monologues over even the simplest of things. "The rest of the stuff is in the back. Garrett will show you which stuff needs to go on over."

"Ah, tremendous!" said Wheatley quickly, and with a sigh of relief, followed Chell into the stockroom.

It wasn't the first time he had nearly let it slip that there was a time before he had binocular depth perception…or arms, or legs – when he was basically only a large mechanical sphere that could only get about on a management rail, or with the fortunate convenience of a hard light body, which made for a bit more independent maneuvering, but still lacked a heart and lungs and skeletal structure.

A time before he was, again, human.

Although Wheatley was pretty sure not everyone really listened carefully to everything that came out of his mouth during his ramblings, he was still very worried about letting anything slip about his former identity as an AI. As it was, only Chell, Garrett, and Duke – Romy's dog (as he could sense it the moment Wheatley's former walking body of solid light had meandered on into that very store those some moths ago) – knew about that detail. For some reason, he thought that little 'wellies' Ellie Otten might have figured it out at least to a degree – something about the way she would look at him – but otherwise, no one else knew. Of course they knew something was definitely different about Wheatley from the moment they had first seen him, or hear him make the peculiar references to having to 'recharge batteries' or about 'conventional matter-based physics' or having to 'reboot the ol' nervous systems.' And of course everyone wondered about that mysterious incident in which they were all knocked out and carried off to God-knows-where, and before they knew it were waking up inside a giant frame of boxes – of cryosleep chambers – back out in the open air of freedom. And then Garrett and Chell, emerging back out from a portal, were carrying an unconscious, slimy, newly recovered Wheatley between them. Everyone had just figured that it was all a part of whatever crazy happening had just occurred; that the Wheatley they saw come out of the incident along with them was the same one from only the day before.

They never actually knew…

"Hey Garrett!" said Chell as they went in.

"Hey! It's about time you two showed up!"

"Aaron said as much," replied Chell. "What do you need us to do?"

"Well, I've got the stereo set here you can take Chell, aaaanndd…Ah! Here. Wheatley, you can take the box of Secret Santa presents. I think everyone has dropped theirs off now. It's over there on the workbench."

"You got it mate," said Wheatly as he strode toward the workbench. He suddenly gave out a quick yelp and a jump back as he was just reaching out for the box.

"AAAhh! Oh god! Watch out it's a tur- oh…ah…" he sheepishly turned as he saw Chell and Garrett staring a him.

"Er- ah, yes…um, sorry, erm, false alarm. Everything's fine. All ship shape here. I'll just…uh…yeah, ok, I'll get the box now."

As he turned back to the box, he could see Chell give a small nod of understanding, …and that helped.

It was like attempting to grab your wallet out from between the jaws of an alligator. With hands still slightly trembling from the sudden rush of adrenaline from being startled so suddenly, Wheatley grabbed the box from Garrett's workbench, the whole time keeping his eyes on the turret that sat not three feet from him. It's optic didn't have the harsh beam coming out of it that most turrets had, it wasn't even glowing a smidgen, but Wheatley still never trusted the demented little arsenals of terror. Garrett had found this 'different' turret when he and Chell had gone into the portal on their mission to rescue Wheatley, and he had kept it around and fiddled about with it from time to time (as it was one of the most fascinating pieces of technology he had ever seen). Turrets would usually go on in their sweet childlike voices whenever a human was within their range of vision, or to protest when anyone so much as touched them (let alone fiddle about with their insides as Garrett had done), and they could even make one heck of a choir together when the mood would take them. But ever since taking this one outside of Aperture, it had never spoken or showed any sign of consciousness, and that was totally fine by Wheatley. He wasn't all too fond of the encounter he remembered he had had with this particular turret – the one that was 'different.'

_["It was your voice."]_

_["…to win Her mantle is to lose yourself…"]_

_["You'll-be-sorry-y-y-y…"]_

It was bad enough having that memory haunt him from time to time, but having that piece of Aperture equipment sitting right there was even worse. It was like having a real ghost knocking about the place.

It wasn't the first time Wheatley had been jumpy around it, nor Chell for that matter. Even though Garrett had assured them both he had taken the guns out of it, which weren't even loaded in the first place, Wheatley never felt at ease around it. For both him and Chell, it was similar to someone having been attacked by a bear or mad platypus, and whenever you see even just a stuffed one out of the corner of your eye in an exhibit, you immediately go on the alert. Chell was of course more low-key in her nervousness towards it – she would only give a small jump whenever she caught it unexpectedly in her peripheral vision – but of course Wheatley was always more animated in his responses to things.

"Alright," said Garrett with a grunt as he shifted his boxes into a position he could get a grip on. "Let's go then. Oh, and Wheatley, I have to stop and do a quick diagnostic on Foxglove on the way. You wanna come along?"

"Oh oh, yes please!" exclaimed Wheatley, brightening up immediately. "That would be terrific that would. Absolutely tremendous! Is she- is she doing ok? Or is this just a uh- routine checkup?"

"Ol' Foxglove's fine," Garrett assured him. "Just gotta make sure she's in top working order, what with the weather we've been getting these last couple of days. Now if you don't mind, this box is pretty freakin' heavy, so can we go now?"

"Ah, yes yes! Let's go!" said Wheatley, following behind Chell and Garrett.

As he was about to leave the stockroom, he heard a small whirring noise behind him. He knew that sound! He froze, dead in his tracks, heart booming once again inside his chest and ears. He waited a moment, and when no more came, he figured he must have just been hearing things, until…

_"Until someone opens the box."_

Wheatley whipped around, nearly dropping the box he was carrying. It happened so quickly, he nearly thought he was seeing things now, but he was pretty sure afterwards that he turned just in time to see the turret's winged sides close back up and it's optic flash a quick red, before it resumed its former dormant position. He also saw that in front of the turret sat a small box…his box. The one he had gotten as his Secret Santa present…for her-

"Wheatley, you coming?" came Chell's voice from up front, with a twinge of concern in it.

"Oh, ah- yeah!" said Wheatley, making an attempt at keeping his voice even and cheerful, but not sure if he was doing a good job of it. "Just coming!"

Wheatley quickly grabbed his present from in front of the turret, placed it in the box with the others, and hurried out of the stockroom.


	4. A World Behind the Eyes

"Everything ok?" asked Chell as she and Wheatley made their way to Garrett's truck.

"Oh, uh yeah!" replied Wheatley, whose voice was a bit more even now. "Everything's er- fine! J-just got a bit jumpy around the uh turret, you know. Can never quite get over those creepy little blighters. But everything's fine. Really, really fine!"

Chell's eyebrows once again made that crease between them that she got whenever she was analyzing something or someone. Wheatley knew he could never fool her, it seemed as if her slate-gray eyes could pierce right through to the heart of anything, but it had been within his personality – let alone his programming as a core – to try to gloss over the difficulties at first with a sort of feigned optimism. In a way he wanted to tell her about what really bothered him back there in the stockroom, but he needed some time first to think.

_"Not one of my strong points though I suppose…thinking,"_ Wheatley thought to himself.

"Ok you two," said Garrett, interrupting Wheatley's unconfident thoughts. "Just set those in the back." Wheatley and Chell loaded the last of the boxes into Garrett's truck, and were soon heading along the gravel road towards Otten's field.

As they came to the edge of town, the buildings gave way to a grand view of the countryside. Everywhere there was a vast expanse of flat, snow covered landscape, edged here and there by forests. There wasn't another town or city within a 50-mile radius, so the vastness of that countryside felt even greater. And with the snow now covering it, it looked like a giant white canvas waiting to be made into a work of art; waiting for the colors of spring to come back through when winter came to its end. But for now, it was content to be a clean, sparkling whiteness.

It was so strange to Wheatley; the change of seasons. While time didn't really seem to be marked in Aperture (except when being timed on a test), the world outside was constantly being moved and changed with the flow of time. From days to weeks, to months to years, from spring to winter, from young to old – it was constant change…yet also cyclical. Often times it was hard for Wheatley to keep up, but as he was quickly getting re-accustomed to the old 'protocols' that had been reawakened in his old human brain, and one of them being his sense and knowledge of time and change.

When Wheatley looked out the window to his left, he could see Foxglove standing tall and proud over the fields of Eaden.

"Ah! Good ol' Foxglove!" Wheatley said aloud. "I really like how you decked her out for the season there mate!" He said, giving a glance over at Garrett. "Haha! She looks right cheerful with those Christmas lights all strung about her. Looks like a giant iron Christmas tree she does! I think she likes having herself all dressed up all sparkling like that for the season." And then he added silently to himself, _"Although…I can't know for sure…not anymore."_

"Oh, thanks," said Garrett nonchalantly, although Wheatley knew Garrett was right proud of Foxglove and all the work he had done on her. And Wheatley knew he had every right to be! She was indeed a fine product of Garrett's engineering skills - his magnum opus. It was hard to believe that she was once a part of GLaDOS - Aperture's most advanced work in computer programming and engineering, and also perhaps THE most terrifying and dangerous program every created. However, Garrett's own unique and clever engineering skills had made her go from that to perhaps THE most advanced communications tower ever created. She was no longer a part of that monster which had a constantly needed (and still needed apparently) to test, to torment, to do Science, to kill. In fact, if it hadn't been for Foxglove, the whole town of Eaden may still have been trapped in the cryosleep chambers, miles and miles away from the blue sky and open air and sunshine, and Chell would still be testing.

_"Thank God we had you ol' Foxglove!"_ Wheatley thought as he was once again thinking about the events of that summer. _"Sorry I couldn't thank you properly afterward though…Can't talk to you anymore and anything you know."_

Finally, Garrett pulled his truck over to the side of Otten's Field, and Chell went on to the Otten's house with her load of boxes while Wheatley followed Garrett across the field of snow towards Foxglove. As they walked, Wheatley thought about how he actually _'missed'_ Foxglove. Sure she was standing right there before him, tall and proud and well, but ever since he came out of his last AI body he couldn't communicate with her like he used to. He missed being able to feel her large and comforting presence as he would be able to plug into Garrett's computer - which served as a sort of bridge between them - and being able to talk with her and other pieces of computer technology. And as she was the only other AI like him outside of Aperture, she had also seemed to be the only other _'person'_ that he seemed to be able to relate to as well as he did, except for Chell of course.

He tried not to think about it too much, but there were times when he actually _missed being an AI_. At the end of the day, he would rather be fully human, but there were times when he couldn't help but think back to how it used to be. As a human, he now had to constantly recharge himself by sleeping or eating, needed constant daily maintenance for staying healthy, and as an AI he never had to worry about those things. Although probably the thing he missed the most was the world he once knew – the one he could see behind his eyes (or optic) whenever he accessed any sort of computer.

_The world behind the eyes…_

"Alright, what's the matter?" Garrett asked, snapping Wheatley back out of his reflective trance.

"Huh? I-er what're you talking about mate? Why should anything be the matter? I don't recall saying anything's the matter."

"Exactly," stated Garrett. "You've barely said ANYTHING all day. Well, not much as you usually do anyway. And you keep on zoning out, which is kind of creepy. So for Christ's sake, would you just let it out already?"

"Ah…well, uh," stuttered Wheatly as Garrett began to climb up the tower to Foxglove's main interface with his computer under one arm. Wheatley followed behind, still not too fond of heights, but not wanting to try to shout up to Garrett from all the way down below.

"Well, I guess it's just…it's just…look, is Christmastime usually like this?"

"Uh, like what?" asked Garrett, who was now setting up his computer equipment, with Wheatley sitting himself down other girder beside him.

"So bloody full of…of memories and-and well, ghosts?"

"Ghosts? What are you talking about? You haven't got it confused with Halloween have you?"

"Of course not!" exclaimed Wheatley, surprising even himself with how tersely it came out. "I'm not a moron!"

"Geez, cool it!" said Garrett. "I never said you were."

"Y-you're right mate. I-I'm sorry." replied Wheatley. "It's just, I've had so many, er, 'blasts to the past' today, I guess you could say. Even though I can't for the life of me remember having Christmas before, there's so much about it that's reminding me of…of that Place, and what happened this summer. Not-not all bad of course. I had some good memories from the summer, like helping you with ol' Foxglove here, but it's the little things you know? It's the obscure little things that are haunting me again. Know what I mean?"

"Um…maybe kind of," said Garrett, now multitasking between listening to Wheatley's monologue and typing away on his computer. "I mean, I have no idea what memories you're talking about, but I do know what it's like to have little things make you remember some pretty awful or uncomfortable things all of a sudden."

"Yes! That's it exactly!" said Wheatley. "And, I know I've put that all behind me now, it's just been, well, a bit overwhelming to have it all come back to me all of a sudden like it has."

"Yeah, I'll bet," said Garrett, now staring hard at the data info splashed across his screen. " 'Fraid I don't really know what to tell you about it though."

"Oh, th-that's alright. Cheers for listening at least! That helps. I just have to work through it I guess. Along with…" here Wheatley trailed off.

"…Along with what?" Garrett prompted him, now clicking about between different windows on the screen.

"Well…along with missing, uh, being me. I mean, not ME me, but how I used to be. You know, an- an AI."

"Oh, you miss it?" asked Garrett, sounding surprised.

"Well, not all the time. But, I know you called me amazing before because of all the…uh… parse trees and nanosytax and-and…yeah, all those other things I once had. Not that I need to be called amazing all the time of course! Haha! Would be- would be downright awkward really that. But I can't help feeling like…well…am I not- am I not amazing anymore? Am I just plain ol' me now?"

"Huh boy Wheatley," said Garrett, rubbing his hand over his eyes.

"Yeah yeah. I know. It-it's stupid." said Wheatley, slumping his shoulders.

"It's not stupid Wheatley. Well, maybe it is, if you can't see how that doesn't matter to us. Or especially to Chell for that matter."

"W-wait, what're you talking about?" asked Wheatley, now rather confused and not for the first time.

"Look, it was really cool when you were an AI hybrid and all, but I know that for everyone here – and for Chell especially – all that mattered was that we got you back after all that drama from the summer. Not sure how much that helps, but I'm not really so adept in philosophical stuff."

"N-no," said Wheatley, actually feeling a bit better from Garrett's few rare sentences on the subject. "That's fine. Although, I guess the only other thing that isn't so easy to just let go of is…is I can't talk to Foxglove. Not like I used to. She was a friend you know."

"Well, have you ever tried?" asked Garrett, now turning to Wheatley.

"I can't mate. I don't have the hard drive in my head anymore."

"Well, it isn't exactly like how you used to be able to do it, but there is THIS hard drive here," said Garrett, handing his computer over to Wheatley. As Wheatley looked at the screen, all that was displayed were indecipherable commands and binary codes. Wheatley knew what some of them meant, but the rest were a hopeless mess of numbers and random letters. The only reason why he was able to translate them before was that in his AI body there was programming that would take care of all that for him. All he had to do was talk or think, and boom! Command carried out, binary codes and all.

"Uh…how do I do this exactly?" asked Wheatley with a twinge of embarrassment. But Garrett didn't seem to mind.

"Here, let me try something for ya."

After typing a way for a couple moments, something like a text box came up on the screen.

"Here, try that," said Garrett, handing the computer back to Wheatley.

Wheatley had actually lost quite a bit of his ability to type from before. Seeing as how he was once a large mechanical sphere or hard light android who could just plug himself into a computer, he never really had the need to type for a long time. In fact, for quite some time he had forgotten what a keyboard was called. He just referred to them as 'flat bits'. But he had been trying really hard to relearn, so he took off his mittens, and after some hesitant moments of looking up the letters on the keyboard and trying to coordinate his fingers and having to hit the delete key more times than he would have liked, Wheatley typed:

_[Hello? Foxglove? This is 00004. Are you getting this? Can you hear me?]_

_[Enter]_

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, but then:

_[admin identity: 00004/[F]AS[IV]IDPC241105/AS[I]HRAD]_

Wheately's fingers shook with the cold, but also frantic excitement as he continued.

_[Yes yes! That's me you're talking about! 00004! Hello!]_

_[00004. query?]_

_[I just wanted to talk to you. You know, see how you're doing and so on. Sorry I couldn't plug myself into the network like before, but I…er…don't really have the-the equipment to do that anymore. But I REALLY, REALLY wanted to thank you for what you did earlier this summer, what with helping to get me into the facility and getting Her to let us out. Tremendous job that was! Hats off to you for that luv! You really helped save us all back there.]_

Wheatley surprised himself in seeing that he typed as he would've talked, but that didn't seem to bother Foxglove before, so perhaps typing in the same manner would be fine.

It was harder for Foxglove to respond in words as she still tended to think in rather strict computer code terms, but eventually the reply came.

_[…=you're welcome/###...my fr..iends…]_

Wheately felt a big smile spread across his face.

_[Yeah, we're all your friends! And you're our friend. And a hero!]_

_[…thank ## you/…]_

_[Merry Christmas Foxglove!]_

_[…Mer…merry Christmas…to/# yooou all tto.]_

"Aha! Well what do you know about that?" exclaimed Wheatley. "Looks like I can still talk to Foxglove after all! Just rather more like email, or rather instant messaging. Yes yes, instant messaging is definitely what this is. Thanks mate!" He handed the computer back to Garrett.

"No prob," said Garrett, as he bent down to put his computer equipment away, and Wheatley climbed back down from the girder. As he got to the ground, Wheatley put a gentle hand on one of Foxglove's massive metal hooves. He may not be able to see that world behind his eyes anymore, but it was still there, and that was all that mattered. And Wheatley thought how wonderful it was that Chell and the others thought that what mattered wasn't that Wheatley was a part of that world behind the eyes anymore, but it was the SOMEONE behind the eyes that mattered.

And then that voice in his memories again…

_["But they still need you by their side, just being good old you."]_

And that meant all the worlds to him.


	5. Sled Ride

As Wheatley stood at Foxglove's base, looking back out over the fields of Eaden, he suddenly felt a tug at the collar of his jacket and then something cold and wet running down his neck and spine.

"Gah! What the bloody- aah! Cold cold cold cold cold!" For a couple moments, Wheatley hopped about trying to get the snow out from the collar of his jacket while Garrett laughed, his gloves still powdered with the some of the snow he just got done shoving down Wheatley's coat.

"Ah! Gah! Brrr! Alright mate! You asked for it!"

Wheatley then scooped up his own handful of snow and began running after Garrett around Foxglove's hooves. On any other day Wheatley would've found it harder to catch up with Garrett, but Wheatley's extra long legs allowed him to leap through the snowdrifts like a reindeer loping across the icy terrain of the tundra. In a few moments, Wheatley caught up to Garrett and shoved his own handful of snow down Garrett's coat. Although he didn't quite pull his coat collar open far enough, so most of it just ended up in the hood of Garrett's jacket.

Just then, a high-pitched voice was heard nearby.

"Wheatley! Garrett!"

Wheatley turned to see little Ellie Otten scrambling up the slope towards them, with Chell, Max, Jason, and their dog Duke following close behind. As they approached, Duke darted forward and went about barking and jumping up and down around Wheatley's legs. Wheatley bent down to scratch him behind the ears while Duke kept on leaping up trying to lick Wheatley's face.

"Duke! Hey there boy! Ah ah! No no! S-stay down. Down! No, I said down! Agh! Mph! Ah! Dog slobber! Bth! Ah, yuck!"

As Garrett called Duke over to him, Wheatley wiped the slobber from his face and turned to see Chell carrying a couple large plastic disks while Max and Jason were pulling along a long wooden sled, big enough to seat two people at one time. Ellie pulled along a little red sled, and in one arm she carried Linnell, her little green vortigaunt.

"Ready to try sledding with me?" Ellie asked Wheatley excitedly as she came up and threw her arms around his neck, with Linnell dangling from one of her hands and down Wheatley's back.

"Sure thing short stuff!" replied Wheatley. "So, how do we go about doing this whole sledding thing?"

"C'mon! Linnell and I will show you!" she cried happily.

As Ellie let go of Wheatley, Chell handed Wheatley one of the large plastic disks. "You'll need one of these," she told him, and the happy company began to trek further up the hill, with Duke scampering about and nipping at the snowflakes that now started to fall again. When they finally reached the top, Ellie turned her little red sled downhill, and sat down on it with Linnell settled between her legs.

"Like this!" she said to Wheatley over her shoulder.

Wheatley furrowed his brow as he looked at how Ellie was sitting on the sled, and then to the large disk in his hands.

"Ok, so, looks like I've got to, uh, sit down on here. Ok, got that. Uh, let's see. Um, looks like this is way too small. My legs don't quite fit on the thing."

"Tuck them up like this," said Chell, who had seated herself in the other disk beside him.

"Ah! Right then, got it! Who'd have thought this would be so technical. All right, so how do I start gooooaaahh! Wwwwhhaaaaaaaaahhh!"

Not even quite knowing how he did it, before he knew it Wheatley was sliding down the hill of Otten's field at a steadily faster and faster pace. As he went down he encountered small divots and rises in the terrain. Every time he hit one he felt as if his insides had been left behind him, but it was also smooth enough that the ride rather reminded him of flying through the pneumatic tubes of the facility, one of the few good memories he had of the place. They had always told him that flying through the tubes wasn't anything special, but it had been one of the few things he found to have been 'fun' the whole time he was in that cage.

"WwwaahhhahahahahahaHaHaHa! Whoa hoho! Man alive! This is amazing! Whheeewww! Ah, this is great! Having a whale of a time! C'mon Chell you got to- …uh oh! Uh, how do I stop? Hey hey! Where are the breaks on this thing! Aaahh! No no no no! Other way! Other way!"

"Wheatley, watch out for the truck!" Garrett shouted as he and the others watched Wheatley flail about trying to stop himself from shooting headlong into the side of Garrett's truck still parked at the bottom of the hill.

"Whaah! How the heck do I steer this thing! Aaaah!"

Chell and the others clearly heard the 'CLUNK!' as Wheatley smacked right into the side of Garrett's truck. The disk he was riding went shooting out the other side, and Wheatley lay there flat on his back with his arms splayed out to the sides.

"Wheatley! Are you alright?" Chell shouted down to him. No response.

"Oh man! I hope he didn't knock himself out," said Max, who had piled onto the two-person sled with Jason.

"C'mon!" said Chell, and took the lead as she and the others slid on down the hill towards Wheatley, with Garrett running as fast as he could behind them with Duke bounding through the snow barking loudly.

Chell was the first one to reach Wheatley's side. At first she became worried as she got closer and saw his chest heaving rather heavily. Then it sounded almost as if he were crying, but then she realized that what she was hearing was the steady crescendo of him laughing hysterically.

"Wheatley, are you ok?" she said as she bent over him. She could tell he was perfectly fine, aside from a slight bruise and lump forming on his forehead, but felt she should ask anyway.

"Aaahahahahaha! Oh hoho! Haha! Whew, what a rush that! Oooh! Now THAT was tremendous! A bit of an er- abrupt stop that, but luckily I was able to block most of it with my arm there at the last second. Haha! Oh. Although, looks like I left a bit of a dent there. Hope Garrett won't be too upset about that."

"I think it'll be alright," said Chell, who was also laughing by this point. Duke then also came bounding up, along with Max and Jason and Ellie. In a couple moments, Garrett was also there, shaking his head at the dent handsomely added to the door of the truck.

"Sorry about that mate," said Wheatley after catching his breath.

"Ah well. This truck has seen worse," said Garrett with a shrug. "Well, I better get going and help set up the sound equipment. You guys have fun now."

"See ya Garrett!" chimed the twins as he climbed into the truck and drove it towards the Otten's driveway.

"Let's go again!" exclaimed Ellie, who was already dragging her sled back up the hill, with Jason and Max trudging alongside.

Chell reached a hand down to Wheatley and helped him back up. "You feel up for another try?" she asked.

"Oh, uh, yes! Definitely. Just, uh, gotta make sure I know how to stop and steer this time. Kind of important those two things." He then went and got his disk from the other side of the road, and with it under one arm, turned to climb back up the hill with Chell walking beside him. "Alrighty then, let's go!" he said.

Chell then reached over towards his free hand and clasped it in her own. "Let's go," she echoed.

Wheatley felt himself turn a slight red, and another grin spread across his face. Although he still felt chilled from having snow stuffed down his coat, and having the cold air whip past him as he sledded down the hill, he suddenly felt a very warm glow well up inside him.


	6. A Recovered Gift

About an hour later, Wheatley, Chell, Max, Jason, and Ellie were all filing into the Otten's house with noses and cheeks red from the cold. And although they were also breathless from sliding down and trudging back up the hill over and over again, they had enough energy to pull off their coats and boots before collapsing on the couches and chairs in the Otten's living room with sighs of laughter and the boy-it-feels-great-to-be-indoors-after-all-that-wintery-fun kind. As Wheatley settled down into the lazy boy chair in the corner, he gave a little, "Umph!" as Ellie leapt up onto his lap, hugging Linnell in her arms and settling up against his chest.

He felt himself turn a bit red again as he glanced over at Chell and saw her smiling at him and the cute little bundle he had in his lap. He couldn't help but smile as well. In all of his life inside of that Place, he never would have imagined moments like this; moments with friends around him (both big and small), a good romp in the snow, and a warm house to come to. It felt so strange, but also incredibly wonderful.

_"Maybe this Christmas thing isn't just full of ghosts and cold memories,"_ he thought happily to himself. _"Look like…looks like it can also be full of warm memories."_

"Well, looks like you all have had a good time," said Heather Otten, carrying in a tray stacked with red and white striped mugs and a plate of ginger cookies. "You all up for some peppermint hot chocolate?"

"Hot chocolate?" said Wheatley, whose eyes widened with delight. "Oh yes! Brilliant! Terrific stuff! Er- wait, did you say PEPPERMINT hot chocolate?"

"Yes I did. Have you ever tried it before?"

"Well, I er- d-don't think so. Is it as good as regular hot chocolate?"

"Nah. It's better!" said Max, who was already helping himself to a mug and a handful of cookies.

"Oh, tremendous! I'll take a mug then too, please!"

"Here you are," said Heather, handing Wheatley a steaming mug of more chocolaty goodness. And once again, Wheatley repeated the his ritual of 'sip, sigh, lick' as he took in it's sugary - and now pepperminty - sweetness.

"Aaahh… Oh, man alive! That's absolutely, positively, one hundred percent, incredible stuff that is! Nicely done there darling! Cheers!" said Wheatley, making a small motion with his mug towards Heather with a slight tilt of his head.

"Cheers!" chimed in Ellie, lifting her mug and nearly sloshing some of its contents over the rim of it, clinking it against the side of Wheatley's mug.

"Oh, well, that's not quite what I –"

"Cheers!" said Chell, lifting her mug as well and clinking it against the side of Jason's mug.

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

[clink clink clink]

Everyone took a long gulp of their hot chocolate to finish off the toast, and then helped themselves to the ginger cookies. After several minutes of nibbling on the cookies and fun conversation, Heather announced that it was time for all of them to head to the barn for the Christmas party.

"Ellie, how about you and Jason and Max run on ahead while Chell and Wheatley help me carry out the last of the food?"

"Ok!" the kids all shouted, and headed towards the front door as Chell and Wheatley followed Heather to the kitchen. With their armloads of food tubs, they began to make their way back through the living room. As they were about to go out the door, Chell turned to find Wheatley staring hard at something in the corner of the living room. She followed his gaze to find that what he was staring at was the piano.

"Hey, you ok?" she asked him.

"Huh? Oh yeah. I-I'm fine." he replied, though still not taking his eyes off the piano.

_"Oh no. What's on his mind now?"_ she wondered. She had hoped that after helping Garrett with Foxglove, going sledding with the kids, and finally having a good cup of one of his favorite treats that he would have gone back to his usual cheerful self after being startled by the turret. But now Chell was sure that there must be more going on than just being spooked from earlier. What was it?

Then she had an idea. "Hey, how about I take those tubs over for you? You still seem a bit tired. How about you go and lie down for a bit and catch up with us in a minute, yeah?" she asked him, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, uh, sure! I-I guess I am a bit tired from, er, all the excitement. Thanks luv! I'll catch up with you soon."

As Heather and Chell turned towards the door, Wheatley walked over and lay down on the couch, although Chell could still see that he glanced over at the piano a couple of times before settling down. What was going on with him?

As Heather and Chell went down the front drive, Chell saw Aaron coming towards the house.

_"Ah! This makes things easier,"_ Chell thought to herself.

"Need something Aaron?" asked Heather.

"Just need to make a quick phone call," Aaron replied. "Promised my cousin I would give him a call at about this time. Just need a private place to talk is all."

"Actually Aaron," said Chell, with a tone of voice that she knew would get her need across. "Do you think you could wait a little while? There's something I need to take care of real quick. Do you think you could take these over to the barn for me real quick?"

It was more of an order than a question. Chell never really liked feeling as if she were giving orders – it often reminded her of, well, Her – let alone giving orders to Aaron of all people, but she knew he would understand. And he did.

He looked at Chell curiously for a moment, but then nodded his head and took the tubs from her. "Let me know if you need anything else," was all he said – no questions, no prying – and he and Heather headed towards the barn with their load of food.

Heading round towards the back of the house, Chell opened the back door as quietly as she could, and tip toed inside. Before she had taken many steps, she then heard one of the last things she had expected.

Music. Piano music.

-

After Wheatley had heard the front door close behind Chell and Heather, he glanced around to make sure he was alone in the house. He then went up to the piano, and again stood staring at it for moment.

"Why is this bothering me?" he thought to himself in bewilderment, and not for the first time that day. "It's…it's as if this were…familiar. But I have no idea how."

_["But I have no idea how!"]_

The voice suddenly flashed through from the back of his memories. So suddenly, that he actually started back in alarm. He knew the voice! But whose was it? It was a child's voice he just heard, but it wasn't Ellie's or any of the other kids. Nor was it any of the childlike voices of turrets.

"Wha- what the bloody –" he began to say. But then, recognition suddenly hit him like a thunderclap.

He was hearing himself. His child self.

_["But I have no idea how!"_

_"Oh, come now Stephen. Yes you do! Just set your hands down like this, keep your wrists up and your fingers curled, and follow the music there. Now, give it another go, then- "]_

As quickly as it came, Wheatley lost the thread of the memory that had somehow leaped over the giant chasm that was dug there in his brain after what the scientists and Aperture had done to him. He had no idea who the woman was that had been talking to him, he couldn't even quite retrieve a face from what little he had picked up, but he did remember what the memory had been about. And one was sitting there in front of him.

"My God…d-did I once?...Oh my…"

And then he thought, "Can I still…"

Once again uneasy, Wheatley sat down on the piano bench and pushed back the covering from over the keys. He then set his shaky hands gently down on the keys, and froze there for a moment. He closed his eyes, thinking as hard as he could. Then, against all odds of probability, some sort of 'muscle memory' came back to him; gently trickling up to the forefront of his brain like a flame creeps up a piece of paper. And he began to play.

Für Elise. Or a simplified version of it anyway. It wasn't perfect. He knew he was making plenty of mistakes as the song went along, but he kept on going, determined to see it through to the end, or at least as far as he could go. It was all frightening and odd and wonderful how the music seemed to unlock that portion of his brain. He had no idea how, but it was…magical.

Finally, he came to a point where his fingers had stumbled to a halt. "Well, that's that done then," he thought to himself, and he let out a sigh.

He then nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard a soft, single-person applause behind him.

"Aah! What the- Oh! For goodness sake luv! How long have you been standing there? Couldn't you at least give a little signal when you enter a room? Cough, or something? Uh…come to think of it, exactly how long HAVE you been standing there?"

"Long enough to have enjoyed the concert," Chell replied. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Uh, neither did I actually. Until, uh, five minutes ago. Guess I had, er, forgotten until- until just now. Not that I can actually really do it anyway. Not-not very well that is," Wheatley said, staring down at the floor with his face bright red. He then felt himself jump a tiny bit again as Chell stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a soft hug.

"I think it was great," she said, and squeezed a little tighter. He wrapped his arms around her in return. They stood like that for a couple moments, until Chell finally pulled away gently and said, "C'mon. We better go join the others."

Wheatley found his eyes slightly wet, but his voice surprisingly steady, as he replied. "Oh, uh, yes. Let's go!"


	7. To Open the Box

Wheatley was so very, very happy.

The Otten's barn had been all cleaned up for the Christmas party, and decorated in a homey country style, but also with a classy Christmas flair. There were hay bails spread around the large space here and there for people to sit on, along with several round tables with chairs. The tables were covered in red table clothes with small, lit lanterns on white doilies with sprigs of ivy and holly placed around them to make centerpieces. Even a few old sofas and even an armchair were situated up in the loft overlooking the lively scene, where a few of their friends were already seated and enjoying cups of coffee and other goodies. Underneath the loft, Garrett had set up his sound equipment, from where some smooth and jazzy Christmas music was playing. Along one wall was a long rectangular table piled with all kinds of food, and in one corner sat a rather large Christmas tree, currently having the last of the ornaments put on it by Heather and Romy and the kids. Around the tree were several large boxes, and inside of these boxes were the colorfully wrapped Secret Santa presents. In the very center of the room was a deep fire pit, with a fire burning gently but brightly inside it. More lanterns and Christmas lights were strung around the room, giving it a soft and comforting light.

Nearly the whole town of Eaden had turned up, and with more steadily arriving, the place really took on a warm and inviting and joyful atmosphere. The last time Wheatley had ever experienced anything like this was on that day when he and Garrett got Foxglove up and working, and the whole town had turned up in the field around her to celebrate.

Man alive! In the facility, Wheatley had never experienced a feeling like this. In a way, it felt as powerful as what he found when he became connected to the Aperture mainframe, and as invigorating as the euphoria solution he would get from testing, but this was also very, very different. Before he had described those feelings he felt in the mainframe as 'good', but now whenever he thought of them he only got a feeling of revulsion towards them. This feeling though…yes, this was truly, one hundred percent, something 'good'.

"Oh there you two are," said Romy as Wheatley and Chell came in. "We're just putting the last of the ornaments on here, then we'll be about ready to start dinner. I hope you brought your appetites."

"Oh, yes indeedy!" replied Wheatley, who now realized just how hungry he had become. It hadn't taken him long to get re-accustomed to feelings like hunger and thirst, although after being in several other bodies that didn't require those kinds of needs, it was still odd for him to think about from time to time. But in some ways he didn't mind the feelings as much he might have been expected. Like feeling the cold, there were pains and discomforts that came when he got really hungry or really thirsty, but at the same time, they rather enhanced the experience once they were satisfied. There was a real pleasure in having a good and full hot meal, and a feeling of genuine refreshment whenever he had a good cool drink of water or a hot cup of tea after a long day.

Before, he never would have thought of pains and pleasures going with each other like that. In that Place, either you had pain or pleasure. Instead of being simply uncomfortable for a time, the pains were piercing, raw and hard. And the pleasures were artificial and manufactured. But now that façade was gone, and Wheatley was in a new world where he was surrounded by such wonderful paradoxes as this.

"Hey Mom!" Max called from over by the tree. "Do we have a ladder somewhere? We need to get the star on top of the tree."

"Oh, no need!" exclaimed Wheatley, who was always on the lookout for a chance to help. "I think I can reach it for you!"

"Alright then, here you go," said Max, handing Wheatley the star.

With Wheatley sporting a height of about six and a half feet, he could easily reach up and clip the star on top of the tree. For a long time he felt uncomfortable about his height, especially since before he had been so used to being a sphere only about two feet in diameter, but eventually he grew to not really care. In fact, like just now, he found that his height could even be a really good thing at times.

"Oh, looks like they've opened up the line for food," said Romy. "C'mon!"

The kids all ran up ahead of the adults, with their eyes much bigger than their stomachs as they began to pile their plates with varieties of meat and potatoes and puddings and casseroles. As Wheatley stood in line behind Chell, he looked over to find that he had put the star up a bit crooked on the tree.

"Hm…Guess I'll have to fix that after I eat," he said out loud.

"Oh, I don't know. I think it looks fine dear," said a kindly voice behind him. Wheatley turned to find that the voice belonged to Emily Kent. "Certainly gives it character to have it up like that."

"Oh, uh, thank you Ms. Kent!"

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Emily, Wheatley?" Emily said with a shake of her head and a smile.

"Oh! Yes, er, sorry Ms.- I mean, Emily. Oh, I say! This is all done up like a real smörgåsbord this is! Oh man! And I thought my appetite was big before."

Wheatley helped himself to as much as he could fit on his plate, and went to sit with Chell and Aaron and Romy and the kids and several others at one of the tables. At first the conversation was a bit limited as everyone dug into their delicious platefuls of food, but eventually the conversation around all the tables grew to became a huge murmur of stories being told, monologues about the simplest of things (mostly done by Wheatley), and loud laughter. It was all so lovely! At one point, Wheatley was sure that if he hadn't been laughing, he would have cried from the joy of the impossible reality of all this.

But eventually his joy turned to nervousness.

After that glorious meal, Wheatley joined Chell and some others around the fire pit in the middle of the room. With a small cup of glögg in hand, Wheatley sat on his hay bail, soaking up the atmosphere and thoroughly enjoying every minute of it. Until Garrett announced over the mic, "Ok everyone! I've been told that it's time for the Secret Santa presents now. So, if someone from each group wants to go over and grab their group's box from under the tree, we'll go ahead and get started." Garrett then put down the mic, and went on over and got their group's box from under the tree. As he approached with the box, Wheatley felt his stomach do summersaults.

_"Would be my luck that it was her name I pulled,"_ he thought to himself, staring down at his near empty cup of glögg.

At first Wheatley had been so excited on that day about a week ago when he had pulled Chell's name out of the box to be her Secret Santa, but soon his excitement turned to worry. He had absolutely no idea what to get her – as she didn't seem to want or to need very much - then also when he finally had gotten her something, he was worried about whether or not she would like it. It was only a little thing, but Aaron was pretty sure that it would be just the thing. Aaron already knew what a lot of the presents were as he had sold a good many of them in his shop, and he had helped Wheatley pick out this one for Chell.

"No one else will be getting one of these, I know that for sure," Aaron had told him.

_"What if it's because it's such a silly thing to get someone?"_ Wheatley thought with hands now trembling again. _"Especially for someone like her."_

Garrett set the box down and began handing out the presents as he read the nametags on them, and once a present was opened, the recipient had to guess who got it for them. Wheatley tried to relax and just concentrate on what others were getting, but it proved to be really difficult. One of the things Wheatley hated the most was waiting, just waiting for things to happen.

Finally, Garrett pulled out the small, unevenly wrapped package and said, "This one's for you Chell."

Wheatley held his breath as Chell pulled off the wrapping. Then, she lifted the lid of the little cardboard box found underneath, and from it she pulled out a beautiful little music box. It was a dark red color, almost maroon, with a gold and white colored trim on it, and the design of a bright red poinsettia on top.

Emily gave a little gasp. "Oh Chell dear, isn't that lovely!"

Chell gave a small nod, and gently opened the lid. Inside the lid was a little mirror, and inside was a little space lined with dark red velvet. Nothing was in it at the moment, but a tune drifted out from it as she opened it. With little chime-like sounds, the song _'Greensleeves'_ quietly rang through the air around the small group seated near the warm fire.

For a moment, Chell sat silently just staring at the box. Wheatley became extremely worried as he saw her eyes squint as she looked at it. He thought at first for a sickening split second that she really didn't like it. He knew she wasn't the sort to need or want a lot of cute things, but he thought she would at least be nice about it if she didn't like it. Then she slowly and gently closed the box, but not before Wheatley saw something very small fall into it, so quickly he nearly missed it.

It was a single tear.

Then he realized that Chell was squinting not out of disgust, but because she was trying to hold back tears. For a moment he became worried again as he thought that perhaps his present had somehow struck a nerve by accident, but then as she lifted her face and looked directly at him with a smile – with that look that was for him alone – he understood completely what sorts of tears they were.

She didn't need to guess who gave it to her; she knew.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," he replied.


	8. When the Bell Tolls One

"Absolutely, one hundred percent, truly fabulous that Christmas party was!" said Wheatley as he and Chell walked back towards Chell's house. It had long since turned dark by this time, and now thick snowflakes filled the air and danced in the lights of the town.

"A bit brisk out here isn't it? But also rather nice in its own way. Lovin' the snow falling…and the streetlights…and, ah! Yes, there's Foxglove glowing on the horizon. Downright lovely this is! Also nice of Ms. – uh, I mean, Emily to have gotten me these socks for Secret Santa. Not- not the most exciting thing I'll be honest, socks, but they look quite warm don't they? Interesting style knitted into them, too. Look kind of like those Christmas sweaters some people were wearing, only these are, well, socks. And the book's nice, too. Not sure why she seemed to think I would be particularly familiar with the works of this Dickens fellow, but…I dunno. Maybe I was at some point. Well, even if I had read it before, no problem in reading it again, right?"

Chell just smiled in response as they continued to stroll through the snow. As they climbed up the steps of the front porch, Chell let out a cough, but it wasn't the normal clearing-your-throat or trying-to-get-your-attention sort of cough. It was heavier, and came from deeper in Chell's chest. She also bent over slightly as she let out another one, even stronger than the first.

"Hey, are you ok?" Wheatley asked as he turned around.

Chell just smiled again and said, "I'm fine," but even that also sounded deeper and not quite as fine as she had wanted to sound.

"Oh no. You're not getting sick are you?" asked Wheatley with concern.

"I'm fine," Chell said again, but ended up finishing it off with another cough, and she felt some mucous come up to the back of her throat. _"Oh great, not now,"_ she thought in frustration.

"Oh oh, here, let's just get inside," said Wheatley as he opened the door for her. Chell stepped inside, and found that as she pulled off her coat and boots, she suddenly felt a little dizzy, and she swayed a bit as she went forward and leaned her hands on the kitchen table to steady herself.

"Whoa whoa! Steady now!" said Wheatley as he went forward to her side. "Here, uh, how about you sit down on the sofa, yeah? And I'll fix us some more hot choc- er, wait. Probably not the best thing to have, hot chocolate. N-not if you're stomach isn't doing so good as well. How about some tea then? Yeah? That sound good? And-and maybe some toast with jam, yes?"

On most any other day, Chell wouldn't have liked anyone to be fussing over her like this. She wasn't really one for wanting a lot of attention, and especially since after being so battle hardened from all the testing she had to do, the occasional cold didn't seem like something worth being fussed over about in the first place. But the mentioning of tea and toast with jam did sound really nice, especially if she got to share it with Wheatley for a while. It's not like she would have to do a whole lot anyway, just sit and listen. Not a lot of attention would be on her really. Just having to sit and listen to his waterfall voice.

She rather liked that. So she gave a small nod, and went and sat down with a blanket while Wheatley went about in the kitchen getting their evening tea ready.

"What sort of tea would be good to you think?" he called over his shoulder as he began to boil the water. "I'm rather partial to the Earl Grey myself, but I suppose one of these herbal or green teas would be good for a cold. Have rather relaxing aromas as well. Although I guess it would be hard to smell or taste them if your nose is too clogged. Well, maybe you could just look at it or something. Hmm. Hey, speaking of which, who do you think this Earl Grey bloke was anyway? And why would they name a tea after him? Or perhaps he had it named after himself. Maybe kinda like that Venn guy who named the Venn diagram after himself. Rather vain that is I think. Well, maybe the Fact Sphere would've known about Earl Grey. Well, probably not actually. A rather mixed up chap he was. Didn't get to talk to him a whole lot before, but our consciousnesses – whoa, kinda hard word to say that is, consciousnesses – anyway, our consciousnesses did connect for a bit after you plugged him into that massive- uh…well, yeah…we don't need to go into that. Uh, erm, ok, I think I'll just go with chamomile then. If-if that's alright."

Wheatley's voice had gone really quiet by the end of that soliloquy. Chell also felt some slight discomfort as that horrible shared memory suddenly entered in.

"Wheatley, I-" Chell began to say, but then the lights suddenly went out.

"Wasn't me! Wasn't me!" shouted Wheatley, who had flung his hands up in the air away from any sort of appliance in the kitchen. Chell could see his silhouette faintly against one of the kitchen windows. "Ok, don't move!" he said, as he slowly began to walk forward with his hands stuck straight out in front of him, feeling his way around the room.

_[CLUNK!]_

"Oh! Ow! That's the table, I've found the table. Ok, so from here I go- whoa! The floor's a bit uneven there. Whoop! Oh, a chair. There's a chair there, in case you were wondering. Wouldn't want you to run into it. Ok, let's see…ah! Here's the light switch!"

_[click click….click click]_

"Ok, that didn't work. Looks like we've got ourselves a power outage." Wheatley sighed. "Looks quite technical…Yeah, don't think I can hack this one. Well, the good news is, I got the water hot just before it went out, so we can still have our tea. The bad news is, we have no light. As I, uh, don't have my flashlight feature anymore."

"There are some candles and some matches in the cupboard to the bottom right," said Chell.

"Ah! Alright then. Ow!" yelped Wheatley as he hit his head on the countertop while bending down. "I'm ok, I'm ok. Just, uh, getting the feel for the layout here. Ok, I've got the cupboard open. Now let's see here, candles…"

Chell heard multiple items fall out and hit the floor as Wheatley shuffled them about trying to find the candles.

"Ah! I've got 'em! Now the matches…oh! They're here on the floor! Alrighty then…" Chell then heard the sound of a match coming alight from a spark. "Ah! Let there be light!" exclaimed Wheatley as he put the flame to the first candle.

After a couple more moments, and a couple of fingers getting slightly burned by the matches, Wheatley had enough candles lit to be able to see where he was going around the kitchen and living room. He then got the rest of the tea ready, and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa and handed Chell her cup of tea.

"Here you go. And rather well done, if I do say so myself," he said with a goofy grin. "Sorry, no toast though. Didn't quite get to that before the power went off. Just bread with jam then. Hope that's alright. So then, uh, seeing as how the power's out, I guess our options are rather limited as to what we can do now. TV's out and everything. No Christmas specials tonight I guess. Hmm…oh! Ding! Here's an idea! How about I read that book I got from Emily? You know, as a sort of bedtime story. Or, well, I uh- I guess you're rather too old for a, uh, bedtime story. Sorry, that idea just sorta came out."

"I think it's a good idea," said Chell as she took a sip of her tea.

"Oh, really? Oh, uh alright then!" Wheatley went and got the book from the kitchen table, and then settled himself down again on the sofa, holding the book in one hand while in the other he held his own cup of tea.

"Ha ha! Feels a bit like 'Classic Theatre' or something doesn't this? Going to read a book aloud while having a cup of tea. I guess all I'm missing is the sort of bathrobe those chaps tend to wear for some reason, but whatever. Anyway, here we go!"

Wheatley cleared his throat and began to read.

"Ahem! 'A Christmas Carol', by Charles Dickens. Whoa! I hope I don't actually have to sing any of this. Ok, well, let's find out what this is all about then. Ahem! Here we go. "Marley was dead: to begin wi-" Wait, what!?" Wheatley then flipped the book over and looked again at the cover.

"What's the matter?" asked Chell.

"I thought this was supposed to be a Christmas story," said Wheatley in confusion.

"It is," replied Chell.

"Wha-…what kind of a Christmas story starts with an announcement about a chap being dead? Rather morbid isn't it? Sounds more like Halloween material to me."

"Just keep reading. It gets better," Chell assured him.

"Well, ok fine," said Wheatley, though still with a rather disturbed tone to his voice. "Ok then, take two. Erm, "Marley was dead: to begin with…"

Within the first several paragraphs of the chapter however, Wheatley was sure this was an awful story, however far you went into it. And a few paragraphs in particular made him really horrified. For he read about Scrooge being a cold and lonely old man, who cared nothing about humanity, and his only concern was how his business was going.

For a while this didn't particularly bother him as he thought to himself, _"Huh, perhaps I have read this story before at some point. At least, this Scrooge fellow seems familiar. I wonder why-"_

Suddenly, it hit him, like a blow to the gut with a bucket of ice water on top. The way they described Scrooge, it reminded him… of _Her_. GLaDOS - that horrible monster that no one dared approach, that had no respect for genuine life of any kind, and only cared about her business; about _Science_. She, that perhaps no one else cared for come to think of it; not a single soul caring about whether she was alive or dead.

For a single confusing and unbelievable moment, Wheatley felt rather sorry for her. _"Whoa! Why on earth would I feel sorry for that nasty piece of work?"_ he thought to himself in alarm. _"Either this is another strange part of this whole Christmas thing, or-"_

Then, to an even greater horror, he then realized what it was he was feeling for GLaDOS. It was empathy. For just then, Scrooge reminded him…_of himself_. It all suddenly came back to him. What he had been like while in the mainframe. Not caring for anyone else but himself, for himself…by himself.

Had everything, and yet nothing. Was cold hearted, and...

_Alone_.

By the time Wheatley had read the part about Scrooge only being concerned about the continual functioning of the prisons, and the 'surplus population' of mankind that could simply be disposed of, he felt something break inside himself. He had seen this very thing happen firsthand! And it was horrible.

"Oh my God…" he said out loud before he could think to stop himself.

"What's the matter?" asked Chell, with urgent concern in her voice.

"N-nothing. It's…nothing…" Before Wheatley knew it, he felt hot tears running down his face. He quickly turned away, trying to hide it.

"Wheatley? I'm serious, what's wrong?" Chell asked again, sounding nearly scared herself.

"I told you, I'm fine," Wheatley tried to say convincingly, but his voice wavered terribly.

"No, you're not fine," said Chell firmly, but not unkindly. "You've been having moments like this all day. Now tell me what's wrong."

Wheatley just shook his head and hugged himself tight. Even now, he had the tendency to curl up into a ball, or as similar to his former spherical shape as he could get, whenever he felt insecure or very afraid.

"Please," said Chell, almost pleadingly. "I can't help you if you won't talk to me."

"…Oh Chell," he said after some hesitation, but still not turning around. "You really are amazing you know that."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, you are," he said. "I mean, after…after everything that happened…and all that I was…god, you even want to _help_ me!" Now he turned, to have his tear stained eyes look straight into hers. "You gave me another chance! _WHY?_ And…" Here again he paused as he saw utter confusion and even a twinge of fear in Chell's eyes. "Oh blimey, I'm sorry," he said, wiping off his face on his sleeve. "I-I know we've been through this already, it's just…" He let out a long sigh to steady himself. "It's just that, I've seen so many…ghosts…today."

At first he expected Chell to not have any idea what he was talking about, but instead her reply was, "So, the turret wasn't only one then?"

"Y-yeah," he said. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I have had a lot of good times today, what with the sledding and hot chocolate and the party and everything. It's just that…so many memories of the old days have come flooding back to me, all sudden-like, you know? You…you kinda know what I'm saying?"

At this point, Chell got up and went on into the kitchen, and came back with the music box Wheatley had gotten her. "As a matter of fact," she replied, "I do."

She then opened up the music box, and as the music began to play again, she said to Wheatley, "You see the mirror here?"

"Uh, yes."

"Well, I saw a ghost in that very mirror today."

Wheatley's eyes went wide. "Wha-what do you mean?"

"As I looked in this mirror, with the fire burning close to my side, and still seeing some of the scars left by my previous battles, a lot came flooding back to me, too," she said, with a slightly distant sound to her voice. "I was seeing the flames of the incineration chambers all over again, and was reminded of how I struggled and fought to get out of that Place."

Wheatley shrank back a bit. "Oh Chell, I'm so sorry! I never would've gotten it if-"

"But," she continued, interrupting his nearly hysteric apology, "it also reminded me of the fact that I _HAD_ gotten out. That somehow, I had made it out so that at the moment, the moment I opened this box, I was safe and surrounded by friends. One of them being a part of what got me – got us – out of there in the first place." Then she again gently closed the box, and looked back at Wheatley. "That friend was _you_."

Wheatley, having no idea how to respond to that, simply looked down at the floor between his shoes, his whole body still shaking from all the emotion that had welled up inside of him.

"Don't worry about how you used to be," Chell continued. "What matters is who you are now. And you're our friend. You're _MY_ friend. It's never too late to make up for the mistakes and get a new start, and that's exactly what you've done."

Wheatley then gave another long sigh to further steady himself, and turned his face towards hers. They just looked at each other for a moment, until finally a small smile came to his face. Not a cheerful one, but one that was one of the in-spite-of-what-he-was-feeling kind. And it seemed a bit random, but also rather fitting at the same time, as he said, "Maybe…maybe _WE_ are the ghosts."

Chell found herself giving the exact same kind of smile as she reached out and put an arm around his shoulders. "Maybe we are."

Wheatley then turned completely around so that they came into a full embrace. They sat like that on the sofa for a few moments, each taking comfort in the warm presence of the other, and feeling their hearts beating against each other between them.

Eventually, the moment was interrupted by Chell having another small coughing fit.

"Whoa, steady on luv," said Wheatley, with a new real smile returning to his face. "Here, you just sit there, and I'll finish reading the rest of the story for you."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" asked Chell with surprise.

"I- I think so," he replied. "You said it gets better right?"

"Oh, yeah, it does," she said.

"Well then, let's see how this all turns out."

They settled themselves back down, this time with Chell leaning against Wheatley's side as he had one arm around her, and the other holding the book. It was a hard book to read at parts as they would get a bit dark, but after Wheatley really got going with the story, he couldn't stop reading it. Although it still felt terrifying at times as the story carried all sorts of parallels to their own story, it also resonated with him as no other story had. And the ghosts in it were most interesting to him because although they scared Scrooge half to death, they were also the best things that ever happened to him. Although the experience with them was painful, the ghosts were there to help him, and eventually it all caused him to change for the better.

Eventually, it came to the end, and with great dramatic emphasis Wheatley finished it.

"And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!"

He then softly closed the book, and turned to find Chell had fallen asleep at his side, with her head on his shoulder. She felt a bit feverish to the touch, but she was sleeping deeply and peacefully. He then smiled fondly at her, gave her soft kiss on top of her head, and whispered, "Bless you luv."

Just then, the little clock radio Chell had sitting on the windowsill gave a short beep. It was one o'clock in the morning. Christmas morning! Without realizing it, Wheatley had read the story right on through into the small hours of that morning. Also at that very moment, he had a visit from another 'ghost.' For the radio also gave a couple small static bursts as a message came through, put together by various channels being tuned into consecutively to create it in various voices. But soon enough, Wheatley knew the single 'person' that this message came from.

"z…ero…zero….ze..ro…..zero…..four….. a Merry Christmas to all of you!"

Then Foxglove's present began to play.

_"I twirl through the driveway with angelic grace_  
_'til I slip on the sidewalk and fall on my face._  
_This Peppermint Winter is so sugar sweet_  
_I don't need the taste to believe._  
_What's December without Christmas Eve?"_

Wheatley had another huge smile come to his face as he closed his eyes and began to hum along with the music. At his side, Chell also smiled as she heard the humming resonate through her dreams.

_"All this holiday cheer_  
_Heaven knows where it goes_  
_But it returns every year._  
_And though this winter does nothing but storm_  
_The joy in my heart is ablaze_  
_And it's keeping me warm._  
_It's keeping me warm."_

~THE END~


End file.
